Storm Strider

Before Marisol knew it again, a whole week had passed, and she was doing her morning stretches in her room when Victor climbed in through her window.

The man was soaking wet as usual—the light drizzle never ended in the Whirlpool City—but he didn’t care about her getting her floorboards damp. By this point, she’d grown used to him making a mess of her room whenever he wanted, so she didn’t even bother looking at him as she continued stretching.

Morning’s the best time to skate around Depth One, after all.

[Indeed. Owing to most crustaceans in the whirlpool being nocturnal bugs, underwater pressure is lighter during the day because Corpsetaker produces less levitoxins–]

“Get out, lass,” Victor said, thumbing out the window. “You’re going up to the lighthouse.”

She hadn’t seen the man in a week since he dragged her out to morning school, and now he was back with yet another bull-headed demand.

“Let me get my stretches and morning warm-up in first,” she mumbled, stretching her waist, legs, and shoulder all at once. “Also, I asked the Highwind Inn staff for a second room, and they said they can afford to give me another. Now, I ain’t gonna be unreasonably forceful like a certain man I know, but if you want, I can ask them to give you–”

Victor clicked his tongue, grabbed her collar, and chucked her out the window. Thankfully, she’d expected something of the sort and was already putting on her remipede earrings—she landed glaives-first on the main street below, scaring a thin crowd of fashionable onlookers as she scowled up at Victor.

The man hopped out half a second later and started speed-walking up, his cane tapping loudly against the cobbled street.

And she hadn’t been training her underwater speed the past week for nothing.

“... I heard from a little worm that you haven’t been eating bug flesh accordingly,” he said idly, glancing at her as she sped up next to him, half-skating, half-walking. “Forty points a day instead of the healthy limit of ten will kill you sooner than you think. Stop sneaking out for extra food on top of what the staff are feeding you. The next time my Altered Swarmsteel System catches you ordering brothy lobster with rice at that posh marisqueria downtown with my money, I’m taking my room back.”

Marisol pouted, vibrating her hydrofuge spines softly to make the rain bounce off her skin. “You’re the one who said I had to get down to Depth Seven, and I’m the one who wants to go back to my mama. The sooner I get stronger, the earlier we can both be out of each other’s hair–”

“No. Fifteen points a day is your upper limit. I can’t be arsed to pry your system from your neck and train another Hasharana from the ground-up,” he muttered. “At least you got around four hundred points this week, didn’t you? What’d you do with them?”

She tapped her thighs, and he looked down to see dozens of eyeball-sized holes scattered across her glaives. They weren’t see-through, no, but they could definitely give someone with a fear of clustered holes goosebumps for life.

“New mutation,” she said plainly, and the two of them sped into the lighthouse, past the reception counters, ignoring everyone waving at Victor as they reached the end of the building. “My Archive says this one’s worth getting over any attribute upgrades if I’m gonna be working underwater, so… what do you think? Should I have just put my points into something else–”

“This one’s strong,” he agreed with a nod, and she couldn’t help but raise a brow; he never usually agreed with anything she said. “If you unlocked it only this morning, I don’t suppose you have any training or practice with it. Try not to use it if you don’t have to. It can… fling you everywhere if you can’t control it.”

Now, she was about to ask how he even knew what she’d unlocked when they emerged out the other side of the lighthouse—that was, the ever-churning whirlpool at the top and centre of the city. They were still at the base of the building, so the swirling water was only three or so metres below, but dozens of armoured lugger ships were already docked in the small harbours by each of the seven lighthouses surrounding the whirlpool; hundreds of Imperators were clamouring around the ships and the harbours, racing along the edge of the crater to deliver messages between the lighthouses.

It was as busy a sight as ever, and while Marisol had never gotten herself involved in actual Imperator duty before—whenever she wanted to dive down to Depth One for training, she’d just jump off the top of Lighthouse Seven and bypass the harbours and the ships and all the constructs at the edge of the whirlpool—but today was different. She wasn’t being dragged by Victor, she wasn’t half-asleep, and… she looked sorely out of place here.

Every Imperator hauling crates and weapons and food supplies onto the ships was clad in pristine white and blue military uniforms, delicate gold embroideries running along the edges of their capelets. They weren’t necessarily wearing armour plates like most mercenaries she’d seen passing through her desert town, but they were all carrying massive weapons: halberds made of crab pincers, lances made of lobster antennae, and literal ship anchors thrice the size of their bodies. Sure, most of them had some form of crustacean mutation allowing them to carry such oversized weapons, but she still thought they were menacing as all hell. Apart from Victor, she was the only one not carrying a weapon as she trudged down the harbour, and it made her feel unprepared.

They were all gearing up for war, and with her midriff showing in her Sand-Dancer clothes, she looked like she was going on vacation.

[They can only swing their oversized weapons underwater,] the Archive reassured. [On the surface, even they would hurt their joints and break their bones trying to swing around such unwieldy weapons. The anchors and halberds are only effective against leviathan bugs, which are generally three to four times as large as normal bugs on the mainland continents.]

… You mentioned that before, didn’t you? She thought, chewing her lips as she skated across the wobbly harbour; Victor was taking her to a small ship at the very end of the floating metal platforms, but she was too busy gawking at everyone else to see who was on the ship. That sea bugs are generally bigger than land bugs? Why’s that?

[Buoyancy,] the Archive said plainly. [Water supports the weight of aquatic bugs, allowing them to grow large without being limited by gravity in the same way land bugs are. Deep-sea gigantism also plays a notable role in aquatic bugs being larger than usual. Cold temperatures and extremely high pressures found in deep waters significantly slow down metabolism, leading to slower growth rates but often larger body sizes over time, so this combined with the fact that most aquatic bugs are also filter-feeders with access to vast and relatively steady supplies of nutrients just floating around in the water—while most land bugs have to expend more energy finding sugar and hunting prey—aquatic bugs like the giant remipede are able to exist.]

But I hear the Rampaging Hinterland Front in the northeast also have giant land bugs? Like, several hundreds of metres tall–

[The titan bugs are a different matter altogether. They are all the direct spawn of Mammot, the Great Mutant of the Northeast, but most aquatic bugs in the Deepwater Legion Front are not the direct spawn of Corpsetaker—but still they are consistently gargantuan,] the Archive explained, gesturing around at the Imperators, [and thus, the weapons the Imperators wield are similarly gargantuan. Water also supports the weight of giant weapons, so why not capitalise on that to live out every young child’s fantasy of wielding an oversized weapon?]

Marisol gave the Archive a pointed squint, but it had a point. Even if the saifs and normal-sized blades in her desert town were wielded by someone strong enough to put a dent in a giant bug, the dent would have to be massive if they wanted to actually hurt an ultra-giant aquatic bug.

They just look so… ungraceful, you know?

[Says the Sand-Dancer without a bountiful chest.]

Hey–

[And not every Imperator has an insect class with in-built weapons, like the water strider’s glaives, the water scorpion’s tail, and the pistol shrimp’s claws. Oversized weapons are necessary against leviathan bugs. Speaking of water scorpions and pistol shrimps, though–]

“Get out of your head and listen,” Victor grumbled, grabbing her by the collar and tossing her onto the ship at the end of the harbour. She flipped mid-air and landed on her glaives again, but this time, there wasn’t a crowd to greet her—only Reina was there on the armoured deck while Victor kicked their ship off from the harbour.

While the ship lurched and started swirling along the current of the whirlpool, Marisol stumbled into the railings, saved from falling overboard by Reina’s blade-like tail wrapping around her waist.

“It is not the end of the world if you fall overboard, but there is a chance you will get hit by another ship or a sinking diving bell on your way back up, and injuries like that happen too often for our liking,” Reina said, pulling her back as Marisol chuckled nervously, arms flailing slightly as she tried stabilising herself.

“She’d been diving to Depth One by herself the past week. If she gets hit by a slow-moving ship, then she’s got her own sluggishness to blame,” Victor said, and the two of them whirled as the man trudged around the upper deck, working the chains and masts and making sure the rope connecting the ship to the harbour was still intact. Marisol hadn’t even seen him jumping on board; wasn’t he the one who kicked them away from the harbour in the first place? “What’s her first mission again, Reina? It ain’t straight to Depth Four or something with her, eh?”

Reina shook her head, releasing Marisol and pointing her tail at the giant diving bell dangling over the back of the small ship. “Nothing of the sort. It is but a simple patrol and recon mission in Depth Two.” Then she trudged towards the diving bell, beckoning Marisol to follow with a curl of a finger. “The Imperators separate by rank and enter diving bells thrice every day to patrol a given Depth. The purpose is to cull any overgrown aquatic bugs and ensure the safety of any commercial divers harvesting resources from the Depths, so there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about. This is a daily routine we have been carrying out for many, many years.”

Glancing around, she spotted dozens more armoured ships being released from their moorings and allowed to swirl towards different spots above the whirlpool. The length of the anchoring ropes determined how far they were allowed to drift away from the harbours, so it wasn’t entirely accurate to call them ‘ships’. They were more floating metal platforms with giant diving bells attached to cranes and winches, and the bells themselves were… pearl-like. Dark bronze, etched with filigree and symbols of the Imperators, and tarnished by years of use in the high-pressure Depths, the diving bells with circular windows of thick, reinforced glass were each large enough to hold half a dozen Imperators, maybe even a few more—but Marisol, born a Sand-Dancer with a free spirit, wasn’t exactly thrilled to jump in through the opened hatch on the side.

Like the Imperators’ giant weapons, she was more than happy just admiring the diving bells from afar.

[The whirlpool is nine thousand metres deep. Not only do these giant bells allow Imperators to quickly descend to and ascend from specific Depths, they also linger around the area where the Imperators are patrolling,] the Archive said, trying to reassure her once again as she neared the hatch. [The diving bells are rather advanced technologies made of crustacean parts. They are capable of equalising underwater pressure and creating air pockets in an instant, which means if anything goes wrong down there, an Imperator can take shelter inside the diving bell they descended in. Weapons, skyball corals, and first-aid medical equipment are also typically stored inside the bells, so for many Imperators who spend many hours of their day underwater, the bells serve as their second homes. I think you will find them rather cosy after a while.]

I doubt that.

[Just get in, coward.]

You're meaner to me now.

The hatch was right over the railing, so while Victor kicked back on a chair in the middle of the deck to sunbathe—bandages still covering every inch of his skin—Reina beckoned Marisol to climb into the dimly-lit diving bell.

Perplexed, Marisol tilted her head at the pretty lady.

“Am I… patrolling Depth Two by myself?” she asked. “Aren’t you and Victor gonna follow me? Aren’t you gonna help me out in case I… you know, screw up my literal first mission? How do I even patrol Depth Two? How long will I be down there for? I don’t–”

“Victor cannot dive, so he will be up here monitoring your diving bell, and I will be up here coordinating the other diving bells as well,” Reina said, shaking her head slowly. “In any case, of course we are not sending you down there alone. The others are already waiting for you inside, and they will tell you the mission details. As long as you listen to their instructions, you will be fine.”

Marisol was about to pepper Reina with more questions when Victor suddenly blitzed in and kicked her over the railings, into the giant bell—the hatch immediately slammed shut behind her, and she heard the rivets turning, the pistons sliding in place to make the whole thing airtight.

“You’ll be fine,” Victor shouted, and his voice was muffled through the window. “Get along with those three, okay? Don’t you ruin my reputation as the best mentor there ever was! I’m expecting good results from you!”

“...”

As the man began cranking the lever to drop her into the whirlpool, Marisol turned and blinked at the three Imperators already seated on the benches by the walls of the bell.

They blinked back at her, evidently just as befuddled as she was.

… That’s funny, old man.

Just put me in an enclosed space with the new recruits I beat black and blue two weeks ago, why not?